Just Call it
by Phineas Redux
Summary: Gabrielle finds herself in a sticky situation, though she doesn't quite realise it at first.


'**Just call it!"**

Gabrielle finds herself in a sticky situation, though she doesn't quite realise it at first.

I recently watched the Coen brothers film '_No Country for Old Men_'. This is my own version of one of its scenes, involving our favourite Amazon warrior. Most of this story's dialogue is taken straight from the film.

Disclaimer:-MCA/Universal/RenPics own all copyrights to everything related to 'Xena: Warrior Princess' and I have no rights to them.

—OOO—

The Amphipolis Inn, run by the popular and well-liked Cyrene, was experiencing one of those quiet afternoons when most regular customers were still at their day jobs and not sitting at the tables of the establishment's large public room. As the sprawling building was located on the dusty highway about half a parasang from the edge of town there was plenty of opportunity for passing trade to drop in for a quick refresher of wine before continuing their respective journeys; though this tended to happen more in the mornings than afternoons.

This particular afternoon in early Summer had been rainy, but the clouds had almost dispersed and large tracts of blue sky were making their appearance; foreshadowing a sunny end to the day. Xena and Cyrene had left Gabrielle in charge of the public bar while they went out back to the wine storage rooms, some distance away, to check the consistency of a lately delivered consignment of retsina from Samothrace. Xena had declared it was overloaded with pine resin, and Cyrene should therefore demand her money back. Cyrene, from years of experience, was determined on her part to convince the warrior Princess this was just the local variation of the drink that the people of Samothrace enjoyed. Xena having curled her lip at this remark Cyrene had taken the intractable warrior to the wine cellars to taste the dubious vintage, and show the tall dark woman the error of her ways—and of her clearly defective taste buds.

Left alone Gabrielle was standing, more or less idly, behind the waist-high bar stretching along one wall of the long room; thinking, it has to be admitted, about what was going to be for dinner. The low ceiling and relatively small windows always created dark shadows in the corners even on a bright day. She in fact had just identified, after at first thinking the room was empty, the silhouetted form of one customer standing near the door. A table was conveniently placed there where a variety of small packets of snacks were on display for those hungry travellers who needed sustenance on their journeys. These consisted mostly of dried beef, small rolls of bread with pieces of butter wrapped in linen covers, and little sachets of nuts wrapped in cool green leaves for moisture.

Gabrielle had transferred her gaze to a couple of used ale mugs on the counter beside her and was just wondering if she should wash them in the tub of water on the floor by her booted feet, or simply leave them for Xena, when she became aware the customer was now standing on the other side of the counter in front of her.

He was dressed in nondescript grey-brown clothes of no great interest, but Gabrielle immediately noticed the strange unattractive hairstyle he sported—lank flat and somehow unbecoming. The man remained expressionless as he placed a bundle of dried beef portions on the counter and indicated the already opened leaf-pack of nuts in his hand.

"How much?"

"That'll be 3 drachmas and 2 obols, sir." Gabrielle was practising her special '_be polite to the customers_' mode, as explained in detail by Cyrene. "Gettin' any rain your way?"

There was a long pause—so long that Gabrielle looked up at the face of the man, in what had suddenly become a chilly atmosphere.

"What way would that be?"

"I saw your wagon's a Thessalonikan make." Gabrielle glanced out the nearby window, with its view of the highway and small parking area for customers. "That's a type anyone'd recognise."

The man continued looking speculatively at the short blonde woman, though he expressed no particular animation; remaining, in fact, curiously calm and untouched by the unfolding scene. Finally he spoke once more, but with no discernible feeling in his quiet deep voice.

"What business is it of yours where I'm from, friend." He emphasised the last word in a curious way that caught Gabrielle's attention.

"I didn't mean nothin' by it." '_Keep the customer happy_', Cyrene had told her, '_even if they're bums_'—up to a point. Gabrielle smiled her best friendly servant smile.

"Didn't mean nothin' by it?"

"Just passin' the time." Gabrielle had now realised she was in the presence of one of those contentious individuals, probably liable to take umbrage at anything she might say. She began to backtrack to a position of safety. "You don't wanna accept that, I don't know what else I can do for ya. Will there be somethin' else?"

"No, will there?"

"Is something wrong?" Gabrielle was by this time examining the strange man in some detail, though there was nothing to make him stand out from the crowd; even his voice still had a curious composure.

"With what?"

"With anything." She began to wonder if she should get angry and simply kick the fool out, but checked herself. His continued apparent calmness, however, seemed somehow more menacing than any action; even making Gabrielle wonder if she was imagining the nuances of his attitude.

"Is that what you're asking me—is there something wrong with anything?"

"Will there be anything else?" Gabrielle gave up trying to evaluate the man's outlandish manner, keeping her tone soft and unthreatening. Best to let the idiot go his own way and leave in peace.

"You already asked me that."

"Uh, well I need t'see about closing." Gabrielle clutched at the first excuse that came to mind. Although definitely sick of this idiot, she still just wanted a quiet end to the stupid conversation.

"You need to see about closin'?" The man studiously looked out the window at what was, embarrassingly, clearly only mid-afternoon.

"Yes sir." Gabrielle gave her voice a note of determination—ignoring the sunlight streaming through the window.

"What time do you close?"

"Now, we close now." _Oh Gods_, Gabrielle screamed mentally, _why'd he have to ask that—can't he just b . . . er off_.

"Now is not a time. What time do you close?"

"Generally round dark—round dark." Gabrielle valiantly stuck to her word—ridiculous as it sounded the oftener she repeated it. _Gods,_ she told herself, _the next b . . . . rd who gives me trouble like this gets a sai up his a . se, no problem._

"You don't know what you're talking about, do you."

"Sir?" This word was forced from between Gabrielle's set teeth. She was now looking the man directly in the face, with a growing sparkle in her eye Xena would instantly have recognised, and quailed at.

"I said you don't know what you're talking about. What time do you go to bed?"

"Sir?" Gabrielle was caught off-guard. Was this oaf actually looking for a fight?

"You are deaf, aren't yah. I said what time do you go to bed?"

"Uh, sometime near midnight." Containing her rising temper with extreme difficulty Gabrielle decided to see if playing along with this madman would help get rid of his offensive presence faster—though why she was taking the trouble escaped her. "I'd say around midnight."

"I could come back then."

"Pardon, why'd you wanna come back?" The Amazon now seriously considered bending down, to rise again with one of her sais and idly tinker with it—just as a kind of a hint to this imbecile. "We'd be closed."

"Yeah, you said that."

"Well, I got to close now." Gabrielle gave up the argument and tried to look efficient, capable—and slightly impatient.

"You live in this Inn, upstairs?"

"Yes, I do." Gabrielle wondered whether she should add that she also lived with the most dangerous woman in Greece—then raised her chin in the air; she could look after herself!

"You lived here all your life?"

"This is my girlfriend's mother's place." Gabrielle frowned darkly at the impudent stranger. She found herself being specific in order to be truthful; though it made her madder than an asp to have to talk about such things with a stranger.

The man's curious reaction was to cough dryly, as if one of the nuts he was eating had caught in his throat.

"Girlfriend! Oh, that kinda girlfriend. You mean you married into it?"

"If that's the way you wanna put it." Gabrielle's lips began to separate in the beginnings of what was going to end in a snarl of rage. Though she was still struggling to restrain herself—Cyrene so hated blood on her floorboards.

"I don't have some way to put it. That's the way it is."

He put his hand on the counter and set down the crumpled moist leaves that had wrapped the nuts he'd eaten. Gabrielle watched fascinated for a moment as the leaves slowly unfolded themselves where they lay.

"What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss?" The man eyed the small woman behind the bar calmly—his voice still showing absolutely no sign of any level of emotion as he twirled a silver coin between his fingers.

"Sir?" _What in Hades was he going to ask next?_ Gabrielle's eyes flicked to the counter as she judged how high her jump would need to be to clear it—and whether she should unsheaf her sai before or after.

"The most you ever lost, on a coin toss." The man's stare was straight, unemotional, and wholly without feeling.

"I don't know—couldn't say." Gabrielle was so intent on his next move she was letting him take the initiative—just to see where, if anywhere, he was going with this twist in the conversation.

For answer the man suddenly tossed the coin lightly in the air and when it landed on the wooden counter placed his fingers over it, before either one could see which side up it was.

"Call it!"

"Call it?"

"Yes."

"For what?

"Just call it." He spoke softly, with only the barest hint he wanted an answer.

"Well, we need to know what we're calling it for here." Gabrielle had noted the coin was an Athenian silver tetradrachm—so would have a portrait head of a helmeted Athena on one side, and an owl's head on the other. Glancing from the hidden coin to the man's face she wondered absently how someone so obviously mad had lived so long.

"You need to call it. I can't call it for you. It wouldn't be fair." He gave these instructions in a voice which remained soft and quiet throughout. He was certainly skilled in hiding his feelings—if he had any.

"I didn't put anything up as a stake." Gabrielle wondered if humouring this character was a good thing, or just allowed him freer sway for his crazy imaginings

"Yes, you did. You been puttin' it up your whole life, but just didn't know it." For the first time there seemed to be a flash of life and energy in his eye and voice. "You know what date this coin is?"

"No." _Hades, where's he goin' now?_ Gabrielle mentally sternly berated herself for letting the stupid yokel get this far so easily. Xena would laugh at her for weeks.

"The 2nd year of Tiberius's reign. It's been travelling 22 years to get here, and now it's here." As he looked at his female antagonist there was the first faint stirring of madness in his eyes. "And it's either Athena or the Owl. And you have to say. Call it!"

"What do I stand'ta win?" Gabrielle was by now fully convinced the man was either mad, or simply enjoyed bullying what he thought was an undefended woman. She had ideas about just how she was going to disillusion the ape.

"Everything."

"How's that?" Gabrielle wondered what he meant.

"You stand to win everything—call it!"

In the long pause that ensued—extended deliberately by Gabrielle just to annoy him, she wondered what he thought the end result of his interrogation was going to be.

"Alright, Athena's head, then!" She finally decided to humour him one last time.

The silence in the empty room became almost palpable, till Gabrielle thought she could even hear the motes of dust dancing in a shaft of weak afternoon sunlight scraping as they passed each other. Then the man took his fingers off the coin to reveal it lying with the head of Athena uppermost.

"Well done!" He spun the coin across the counter to lie beside her hand.

Gabrielle gave a sigh of relief that the crazy confrontation appeared to have ended so easily, with the man's apparent delight. She picked up the tetradrachm.

"Don't put it in your money-pouch, madam." He seemed truly concerned about Gabrielle's move to dispose of the offending object. "Don't put it in your money-pouch—it's your lucky tetradrachm."

"Oh, where should I put it?" Gabrielle found herself struggling with a physical need to laugh out loud, nearly beyond her control.

"Anywhere, but not in your money-pouch." The strange man, still with the deadest eyes she had ever seen, turned from Gabrielle to walk towards the door; almost with an air of relief in his step. "There it'll get mixed in with the others, and become just a coin—which it is."

His last words were delivered with a curious emphasis, as if they meant something more than Gabrielle could ever hope to understand. Then he was silhouetted in the doorway for an instant before disappearing outside. A moment later Gabrielle heard the Thessalonikan wagon creaking into movement and rolling away down the highway. Musingly she put the tetradrachm in the money-pouch beneath the counter which Cyrene used for customers cash.

—OOO—

"Hope ya ain't been bored, Gabrielle." Xena laughed as she followed Cyrene through the rear door of the public room a short time later. "Conned any customers into overpaying for anything yet?"

"Xena?" Cyrene gave the tall warrior a light-hearted frown of disapproval.

"No—no." Gabrielle was still trying to make sense of her late encounter—then thought better of it. After all the man was gone—and the more important subject of dinner called loudly to all hard-working Amazon warriors, and others. "Say, Cyrene, I hope you showed this missy here just how wrong she was about that retsina, eh?"

"I certainly did, Gabrielle. She admitted defeat on all quarters. So I made her promise to be nice to everybody for the rest of the day." Cyrene laughed. "She says the very next customer that comes in she's going to be extra-polite to—so's they won't have the least reason to find fault with her!"

—OOO—

**Notes—**

1. My understanding is that many Roman coins did have a complex dating on them which would have made it possible for the man to date his particular coin. This often took the form of 'Tribunicia Potestas' (Chief Priest)—TRP on coins, followed by a Roman numeral. This showed the number of years an Emperor had held the important post, renewed by him each year of his reign. So in Classical times it would have been possible for someone to know how old various coins in their possession were. By my calculations this should set the above story in 37AD, the first year of Caligula's reign; though I realise tetradrachms were somewhat outdated by this period.

—OOO—


End file.
